All the Bold Moves (All The Right Moves 2) - Page 96

I hold my shaking hands out in front of me for everyone to see, oblivious to the tears are streaming down my cheeks.

Abby stands up and comes to my side of the table, pulling me into a side hug. “Honey, oh honey. Don’t cry. You don’t have to decide now.”

“Men are such bastards,” Jenna says gravely, causing Molly to roll her eyes for the second time in a matter of minutes.

“Ignore her,” my roommate consoles. “It’s okay. No matter what, it’s going to be okay. If you want to stay with me, and stay here in our apartment, and go on with your life and only see him when he has bi weekends, that will be okay, too. He’ll understand. That’s just how his life is.”

“Maybe you could insist on separate bedrooms,” Abby suggests helpfully.

“You did not just say that,” Jenna laughs loudly, cackling like a maniac. “Separate bedrooms!? The whole point of moving in with someone is so you can screw anytime you want. God, sometimes I wonder about you…”

Molly holds her hand up in front of Jenna’s face. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insinuate my brother would go through all the trouble of moving her across country just so he can screw her.”

Jenna, who has never been one to take a hint, continues. “In fact, I can’t believe you and Weston aren’t living together yet, the way you two go at it.”

“First of all, we are not always going at it: I’m insulted you’d even say that. Secondly, unless we get officially engaged, we can’t live together. Parents rules, and they pay the rent, so…”

“Plus, you’re only twenty,” Abby puts in. “Way too young to be shacking up.”

“Says the nun,” Jenna murmurs.

“Since when is it a crime not to have sex with every guy I come in contact with?” Abby asks, hands propped defensively on her hips. “At least I have a little self-respect.”

“You guys stop,” Molly interjects, putting both her hands up to halt the conversation. “Why are you two always arguing? Enough! We’re here to help Cece, not fight. If you can’t get along, then I hate to say it, but maybe you should leave.”

“Yeah, Abby. Maybe you should leave.”

“You know what? I’m going to my room.” I say, my head suddenly throbbing. Before shutting my door and throwing myself on my bed, I pop three ibuprofen and drink an entire glass of water from the bathroom sink – which is kind of rank, but at least it’s cold.

I can hear Jenna and Abby still bickering in the kitchen, and sit on the edge of my bed, letting myself fall back into the center of it. Staring up at the ceiling, it’s not long before I hear the sound of the door creaking open, click closed, then my mattress dips as Molly slowly lowers herself down beside me.

She doesn’t say anything; instead, she starts finger combing my hair and staring off at the wall, probably contemplating what words of wisdom she wants to impart on me.

We sit like this for a long time, only the sound of our two friends arguing in the other room fill the air. Finally, I roll over on my side, facing Molly and looking up at her.

She continues playing with my hair, but quietly says, “You know… you can’t avoid it forever. It’s not going to go away.”

As if I didn’t already know that.

“When does life have to be so complicated?” I finally ask, barely above a whisper.

Molly laughs softly under her breath, tussling my hair, then bends softly to whisper in my ear. “Silly, silly girl. If love was easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

CHAPTER 36

MATTHEW

“I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to woman, and that’s kind of how I like it.”

– Bernie

“Repeat that last part for me. I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Weston says, skating a circle around me on the ice, his hockey stick tapping the ice in repetitive motion.

“You heard me just fine the first time,” I grit out, irritated.

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it again. I want to make sure I have all the details correct when I repeat it later.” He skates away from me, backwards, and sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth, making me wonder how exactly I’m able to put up with his bullshit.

My hockey stick slices the puck to him in a fluid motion (I don’t mention the fact that I’m aiming for his head), and his eyes widen as it flies towards him through the air. His stick goes up, breaking the pucks path mid-flight, and it lands with a smack down on the ice.

“You know Matt, I always knew this day would come.”

“You know Wes, this is why I aim pucks at your cocky ass face.”

He gasps in protest and lifts his glove to his chin. “You would purposely mar this beautiful face? Matthew, how could you?”

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